by Scott Moon
Kevin counted the growing army of well-dressed thugs. Most wore the athletic-wear uniforms of low-level brutes, but half a dozen were in suits worth more than Kevin’s life. “We will have to run.”
“Do what I say.” Arthur shook his head without looking at the growing mob. “They won’t stand by and let me kick your ass a second time. I don’t know what happens if we get stuck here.”
Kevin remembered his father’s calming mantra but couldn’t make it work. He didn’t dare look to his grandfather’s memory for inspiration or courage. His mother’s face, unseen but felt inside of him, gave him a list of things to do and he took action.
Listen to my brother. Get out of the building. Get to the end of the street. Look for cops. Stay in public.
Factory whistles trumpeted the end of a shift only a few blocks away. Before long, the street’s pedestrians crowded the streets. Kevin looked back at Raf’s enforcers, thankful they had decided on a final number rather than grow to a thousand angry killers.
Noise levels increased. Sidewalk vendors sold hot food to passersby and pubs filled up with sweaty men and women tired of driving robot assembly lines.
Police drones dropped from the ever present cloud above to observe rush hour. Elevated trains and subways slid into their stations and quickly filled up with those heading straight home.
“Arthur,” Ruby said as they passed an alleyway.
“What are you doing in an alley?” Kevin asked.
Arthur grabbed his arm and yanked him off the sidewalk. “She knows the area. Shut your mouth for once and do something useful.”
Kevin ripped his arm free, finished with his brother’s bullshit, and not wanting to get caught by Raf’s goons.
“This alley runs around the back of the library and the old train station. We can get back to 595 if we hurry.”
“It’s good to see you,” Arthur said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they had just gotten married.
She came up for air, took his hand, and pulled him deeper into the alleyway.
Kevin followed.
Ten minutes later, they emerged on another street. Kevin spotted a squad of police officers in tactical gear from the group that had helped surround the Siren, he thought.
Arthur pulled him back. “We’re not going to the police. Raf’s pissed off. What do you think he’ll say if we go straight to the cops after that disaster?”
“I’m not saying go to the cops; just keep them in sight until Raf’s enforcers leave us alone,” Kevin said.
Arthur hesitated, then snorted.
Kevin stared at his brother. He had already forgiven him for the fight, for the humiliating ass kicking. Things like that were hard to keep real. Too much pain, so much that no rational person would want to treat it as real. Despite recent and vivid memories, he wasn’t sure what was happening. Both he and his brother were changing and not just because Ace and Amanda were gone.
What the hell kind of deal did you make with Raf? Kevin wondered if his brother had sold him for a good price. Maybe the deal had only been for him to do one thing for the crime lord, but it must have been bad for this kind of retribution. You sold me for them, you son-of-a-bitch. I would have volunteered if you asked. He ground his teeth, then found it hard to breathe as he realized Arthur had only been thinking of Amanda-Margaret.
Apparently, Arthur cared little for his brothers.
The walk to Building 595 passed in a blur. Kevin saw all the same details, the same crowds of characters and personalities he might have found amusing on a brighter day. He had not slept well since the twins disappeared. Recent events overloaded his thoughts. He probably had a concussion.
“Get inside,” Ruby said. She closed the door behind Kevin and his brother. The ground floor of Building 595 was a large open area that had once been an atrium but was now full of public gardens. Sunlight streamed through the large front windows. Residents respected the small plots of land and treated cultivation as a sacred trust.
Stealing food from a garden was not unheard of, but vandalizing crops was one of the worst offenses a resident of 595 could commit. Kevin had never seen it, but remembered his father and brother going to sit on a jury to decide the fate of somebody who had pulled up radishes during a domestic squabble.
Wide walkways meandered between the gardens with a large paved area in the center that had once been a fountain. Water that had gone to the extravagant display had long since been rerouted for more productive purposes. Now the large circular fountain was a gathering space surrounded by vegetation irrigated by drip hoses.
Kevin had never seen so many people in the mezzanine. He realized they were coordinating the search for Ace and Amanda. More and more people turned to look at Kevin and his brother as they entered, noticing their injuries and sensing something was about to happen.
All brothers liked to fight. Arthur and Kevin were no exception. The scene at Raf’s stronghold repeated, except this time there were friends and neighbors to impress. No one but Ruby dared interfere, not with Arthur Connelly.
“Go upstairs, Kevin Connelly! Ahhhg, you are so stubborn!” Ruby said.
Her grip was surprising. Kevin didn’t understand why she was pushing and pulling him until he tried to imagine her moving his brother even an inch
Kevin held his left eye, already swelling shut. “You are my brother’s girlfriend! Get away from me!”
He left Building 595 and the crowd of onlookers behind, not sure where his brother was and confused how he made it outside. Why did Ruby want him to go upstairs? His first thought was that she wanted him to go home and clean himself up. For a moment, he hoped she would mother him, clean his wounds, and reassure him.
The emotion came and went. He suppressed it as weakness not fit for a grown man. He missed his mother. Ruby could never, should never fill that role.
He struggled down the street, wondering where Arthur was and confused that Ruby was not at his brother’s side, patching his wounds, touching and holding him like she seemed to do most of the time. His stomach twisted as lights flared in his vision. Several desperate strides later, he vomited into a gutter near an alleyway entrance. Cats fought over his deposit before he could retreat.
Tired, hurting badly, he walked back toward 595 and watched his home from a distance. People were still searching for Ace and Amanda.
There was something different about the way they acted. He pretended they were also concerned for him. After what seemed an eternity, he saw Ruby sitting with Arthur on a bench near the front of the building. City medics climbed out of their vehicle and checked his brother. Ruby harangued them. Eventually, his brother allowed a medic to bandage his head and wrap his left wrist with something before refusing a trip to the hospital.
Kevin backed away, turned, and left his home behind.
HIS heart ached to move beyond the growing search. Juvenile delinquents shouted and laughed in the park — drinking, smoking, and partying until the Greater Kansas City Police patrols came too close. Then they moved.
He wasn’t sure where he was now. Lights glowed above shops and bars. Women propositioned him. Kids tried to sell him drugs. Two cops stared as they walked toward, then past him. Dawn reached through the city, causing the windows of buildings to glow.
Looking back, he saw the towers where most of the population lived were far behind. He was now in the commercial and industrial district, not the best neighborhood but not the worst. A mile ahead, soldiers guarded walls. Behind the walls were landing pads for airships and launch platforms for space shuttles.
The recruiting station barely resembled the screen display he had seen above the park near Building 595. He wondered if it was occupied and considered turning back. Was he going to leave what was left of his family for this shabby place?
With shorter buildings and a surplus of overgrown vacant lots, this was as close to a rural environment as Kevin had experienced. People moved toward jobs. A few waved. Others gave him a nod. Overworked, lean, and happy a
s sunshine, these strangers didn’t seem to fear his battered face or angry disposition.
He stared at each passerby as though seeing an alien, realizing what was wrong with them. The lack of desperation and fear inspired a strong reaction from his Building 595 life experience.
Were they fools? Careless? Irresponsible?
Tears smeared lines in dried blood. His self-barbered hair felt greasy and crusty in places. One of his boots had broken laces and a torn heel. Shirtless, he shivered.
“Rough night?” asked a man who was carrying a lunch box.
Kevin didn’t know what to say, so he stared like an idiot.
“Been there, let me tell you. I imagine you’re here to enlist. Pound on the door until it opens. Sergeant Jamis likes to test each prospective recruit.”
“For what?” Kevin asked, his swollen eye throbbing when he tried to open it and appear human.
“Determination,” the man said. He patted Kevin on the shoulder. “You might think about a visit to the free clinic first. Boot camp is unforgiving. The doctor at the Military Entrance Processing Station might or might not disqualify you just by looking at your face.”
Kevin straightened in alarm.
“Oh, I see now. You actually want to enlist. A lot of young men think the military won’t take them if they show up after a three-day bender with busted out teeth and three kinds of venereal diseases.” The man laughed at Kevin’s reaction.
“Get fixed up at the free clinic. Safest way to go. They are not free, but tell them Jamal Kendric sent you and the docs will give you a fair deal at least.” He waved as he left to merge with a growing river of men and women headed to a checkpoint leading to an ultramodern factory.
Kevin sat on the curb across the wide street and stared at the recruiting station, wishing he had gone up to the room to check for Ace and Amanda a final time.
9
Boot Camp Joii
KEVIN awoke with his face pressed to a cold train window and his left arm cradled in his right. He remembered getting cleaned up in the recruiting bathroom before his first physical and written aptitude test. Words had threatened to undo him until he remembered his mother and father reading each night. He could read; the words just took some wrestling. What saved him during the test was memorization and his well-rehearsed act.
He wasn’t the only person getting stitches during the physical. There were several street tough guys and girls and two or three women escaping abuse. One of the three denied her situation, claiming she would never let a man strike her. Tears had rolled down her face while the other women watched her as though she might bolt or turn on them in favor of her abuser.
Neither the recruiter nor the doctor asked questions once identity and age was proven.
Kevin’s toughness hadn’t impressed the recruiter. Despite the haze of pain and the emotion of the last few days, he thought of his grandfather often. Every part of the Starship Marine Corps intimidated him, which was surprising. This was a day he had dreamed of since he could barely walk. With his luck, he would get stuck in the SAC, or worse, the SCPC.
As recruiters went, Kevin felt shortchanged. Grandfather Brandon had explained what he could about military structure. Much of the organization remained mysterious to outsiders no matter how structured and well documented. In the stories, Brandon’s recruiter had always been short and wiry — squared away beyond what any soldier had a right to be; steely eyed, staring straight into your soul, and all but guaranteeing a legendary career in the military.
Kevin’s less wondrous recruiter had explained the paperwork and smiled as the medics put him back together. There was no disguising the fact the recruiter had been fathered and/ or mothered by either a bear or an Irishman.
The green and khaki Class B uniform didn’t quite hold in his gut or emphasize his rock hard forearms and hands. He looked like a tattooed brawler, not the best example for prospective enlistees.
Kevin tried not to think about the recent memory. Sun broke the clouds as the train circumvented the city. He never realized how much more industry than apartments there were. Growing up in Building 595, it seemed the dense population must cover the Earth. He wasn’t sure why, but the realization people were a small part of this city, in all of their thousands, made him tired to his core when he needed to worry about Ace and Amanda.
“You should sit up straighter,” a young woman said two seats away from him. Despite the crowd on the train, Kevin had an empty seat between him and his nearest neighbor. Small and dark, she had a tattoo on her neck that slipped under the collar of her shirt when she moved. He squinted at her shirt, wondering why she covered the mark. Pain throbbed in his head and he touched the stitches along the left side of his face to see if they were bleeding.
“I don’t want to sit up.” His words were dishonest. Lying in a crumpled mess against the train window as everything moved and rocked was painful. About the same time his neighbor gave him advice on his posture, he imagined Arthur saying the same thing. Stubborn belligerence was the only rational and justified reaction.
“Suit yourself. Call me Joii,” she said.
“Is that your name?”
She glared a challenge, then smiled and looked away.
Intrigued, he studied her and tried to put aside his misery.
The train wasn’t the newest or best he’d ever seen pass overhead, but it was solid and well maintained. A small voice suggested he pay attention. This was his first ride on the train. The throbbing in his head worsened during the gentlest turns.
She looked back at him. Something in her eyes warned of darkness, but he thought the smile seemed genuine. “You don’t look good,” she said.
“I have a headache.” Kevin had planned to say more, something polite and normal when describing blinding pain to a stranger.
Her reaction gave him pause. “Do you get headaches often?” she asked.
Thinking of Ace and his torturous migraines, he looked out the window. “Mine aren’t so bad.”
“Do they come before or after the nightmares?” Joii asked.
Kevin clenched his teeth, staring harder through the pocked glass as rain pelted like an enemy attack. “I assume you have nightmares and headaches. I hope yours aren’t as bad as my little brother’s.”
He hadn’t wanted to mention Ace. All he could think about and the first thing on his mind when he woke up and the last before he went to bed was Ace and Amanda and how he would find them. Any rational person would ask for help, but even with the entire neighborhood, police, and criminal underground looking for his twin siblings, they remained beyond reach. What could this small stranger do for him?
A wave of self-doubt and confusion drove Kevin further into himself. During his march to the recruiting station, joining the military life as Grandfather Brandon had done so long ago, made perfect sense. Now all he wanted to do was go back and search for the twins.
He heard Joii getting comfortable in her chair — turning away from him. Apparently, he had missed his chance to answer.
For the next hour, Kevin daydreamed. Hero fantasies were a habit. He had used them to relieve stress when he was younger, entertain himself when there was nothing but long days of work, and reward himself whenever he had a moment to remember his grandfather. To his surprise, a powerful image of the good times with his siblings rose to the surface, pushing aside his usual imaginings of victory and glory. He cherished these moments and feared they would not survive separation from Arthur, Amanda, and Ace.
Half asleep, deep in the dream, he realized Grandfather Brandon was sitting right in the middle of the 595 living room. His siblings prepared a meal as the family laughed. He could barely understand the intensity of the illusion. It was all he hoped for.
And more.
Family members he didn’t know — couldn’t know without the powerful magic of dreams — were just beyond the door. His grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even friends of the family. He had never had a dream like this and it startled him.
>
Looking around the train interior, he discovered Joii staring at him. He was sitting up straight, oblivious to the fading misery of his nightmares and the throbbing reminders of his fight with his big brother. Somehow, the young woman understood what was happening, or he thought she did. She didn’t interrupt, and for that he was grateful.
He turned away to look through the window and tried not to be rude. Wanting the moment to last, he held it as delicately and as firmly as he could. The dream family faded one by one until Brandon dominated. Then he was gone, leaving only Kevin’s siblings. Tears ran down Kevin’s face as the darkness pressed in again like the inescapable force of gravity.
“Have you seen the city before?” Joii asked.
Kevin wished he had invited her closer to the window to watch the spectacular sight. He felt awkward and strange — unsure how to act. Seeming to sense his dilemma, she leaned closer without touching.
“I didn’t know there were so many factories,” he said.
She smiled without apparent judgment. “We build starships.”
“I didn’t know,” he said.
She sat back in her chair and stared at him. “How is that possible?”
Kevin squinted and thought of the hundreds of miles of industrial complexes around his home. “My brother is always thankful for work. As for me, I haven’t built anything. We couldn’t afford to pay the union for my card. I do a lot of grunt work and get paid under the table.”
“It’s the same everywhere,” she said.
Kevin stared, watching the small island of humanity that that was the home for hundreds of thousands of people dwindling in the nest of ever larger industrial complexes. Metal buildings rose so high, he was confused at never having seen them. From his current vantage point, he realized only the outer ring of residential buildings faced the industrial parks and those lacked outward-facing windows.
